Truth or Dare
by nyctigamous
Summary: She knows this is a cheap shot, but nobody said anything about rules.


Let's just pretend for this one that Casey was taken alone, Dennis got his redemption ark _before_ shit got fucked up, and everyone is able to live in a happy domestic life together. Deal? Deal.

* * *

Initially, Casey thought that when things came to sexuality and tension, she wouldn't be able to accurately recognize them even when they were staring right into her face.

And, initially, she was right. For the first couple of months. Now, those were filled with a lot of confusion, guessing, and determining. And determine she did.

Casey Cooke has a huge problem.

Her problem is tall, grim, wears glasses and dark, monochrome clothes _only_. Her problem has OCD, a sour attitude, and far too much grief to give everybody than she knew were possible.

It just so happens, that her problem also has a proclivity to steal glances, sometimes _stare_, touch her shoulders, head, or arm, brush against her ever-so-innocently, and speak in a voice low enough to make her insides melt. Her problem makes her breath hitch more often than not, makes her heart beat so hard it physically hurts, and by the third month of the guessing game about his feelings or hers, she knows she is in _trouble_.

She thought it was fleeting. She thought it'd pass away, fix itself. Talking with Barry about it, however, made it worse, scurrying away from his knowing stare, confident smirk as he puts a cup of coffee to his lips(and she _tries_ to not think of them as Dennis' lips, _she tries_). Talking with Jade makes it even worse, after Casey undergoes severe interrogation, and is forced to come to terms with her own feelings, forced to acknowledge her own short-lived touches, momentary glances, thoughts of wanting to feel the man's warmth.

It is after she talks with Hedwig one day, and after hearing his childish and friendly voice chime _"I think Mr. Dennis likes you, you know"_, that she knows, it wasn't a problem, it's a whole disaster.

Casey Cooke does not do romance. She simply doesn't know how.

She tells herself that, as another month passes. There's a moment once, in which Dennis holds her gaze far longer than he ever does, eyes far darker than they ever are, and something clicks in her. It clicks hard enough to shake her to her very core, and she knows then, something has to change.

So she devises a plan.

The plan comes in motion one day when she offers Hedwig to play truth or dare. He's ecstatic, happy to answer(sometimes even evade) her friendly challenges of truth, and she undergoes his barrage of dares. Eventually, Hedwig chooses a dare, at which, Casey decides, the plan goes into step two.

She asks him to let one of the alters come to play with her further.

She expects him to pout, protest, but is surprised when she is greeted with a knowing glint in his eyes and a grin that almost reaches his ears.

"Go and make Mr. Dennis confess his feelings for you!" Hedwig cheers, completely catching her off her guard.

She's flustered, beet-red in her cheeks, and a complete mess when she sees Hedwig's posture change into a far more mature one, taking glasses out of his pocket and diligently putting them on. She stares at Dennis, like a deer in the headlights, almost forgetting what she is supposed to be doing. It is only when he softly clears his throat and cocks his eyebrow at her, that she gets herself together and speaks up.

"I, uh, Hedwig and I were playing truth or dare." Casey starts, and almost immediately wants to smack herself for the awful opening.

She swears she sees a ghost of a smile dance on his lips. She tries not to linger on them too much, tries not to stare.

"I assume my presence here was a dare?" His tone is somewhat light; it has been a while since they both got over feeling too awkward to talk around each other freely.

"Yes. No. Not exactly. The dare was to call another one of you guys." She tells him, and almost fumbles about her words when she notices a scowl appearing on his forehead. "Don't bail on me, though. Hedwig will be reaaaally disappointed if we don't follow this through." She feels that damn heat creeping into her cheeks again.

He raises his eyebrows, looking almost amused. She can see him making the decision to humor her.

"So which one will it be, Dennis? Truth or dare?" She cracks a smile at him when she hears a small, tired sigh.

"Truth, then, I guess." He tells her, defeatedly.

Casey swallows now, her mouth suddenly dry. New-found anticipation slowly fizzing out into what feels like dark-pitted dread.

The girl opens her mouth and spills, before her body catches up and shuts it for the rest of the evening, before she turns into a nervous wreck again.

"Patricia mentioned something. Something about watching young girls dance? What's that about?" She tries to stay calm as she speaks, shy even, and the question feels like planting a seed for a great oak tree. She knows the answer, of course, she knows well. Patricia didn't skip any details on it, painting the fact in her own gentle, yet malevolent streak.

Casey stands straight and refuses to let blood seep into her face when Dennis' eyes darken and his scowl deepens. The air stills and almost cracks from the electric, rising tension. She swears she feels a gentle gust of freezing wind whistle between the tips of her fingers.

And she can't help but feel somewhat satisfied as she watches him squirm about, uncomfortably. She tries - really _tries_ \- not to stare when he nervously licks his lips, brushes a hand over his scalp, and looks at her from under his glasses. She can tell he is not backing down from this, and that's exactly what she needs him to do.

She knows this is a cheap shot, but nobody said anything about rules.

The man clears his throat, the sound disturbing the thick silence that has engulfed them since her question.

"Dare." He says, eyes full of conviction, shoulders tense, hands at his sides.

"Alright." She breathes, far too quiet than she would have liked, feeling anxious as her plan ushers itself into its final step. "Kiss me."

Casey can't help anxiously biting her lip as she observes a slow wave of shock pass through him. She could have anticipated it, yet still feels surprised at how drastic and fiery the tension turns at her words. She almost forgets to breathe.

He could leave, she thinks. Turn around, leave the room, not talk to her - or even look at her - for the rest of the day. Go back to stolen glances and fleeting touches. He could just spin around and go, before it's too late.

Instead, Dennis takes a step forward.

For a split second there's nothing but his eyes, and if they could have gotten any darker, they did.

The second step is bolder and more resolved. She feels her stomach turning into knots.

She feels his warm breath on her face after the third, and he's towering over her. Her chest feels like it will burst open, freeing the bird in her ribcage, beating so viciously against the delicate walls.

Dennis doesn't so much as glance away from her when he raises his hand and brushes a knuckle against her cheek, with tenderness that makes Casey's heart ache. Her breath hitches at the touch, and she can't help but instinctively lean into it, savor it. Her eyes flutter shut when his hand delicately plunges into her hair, angling her face ever so slightly.

A violent shiver echoes through her body when she feels his lips on hers, and she's surprised at how tentative it is. Casey parts her lips, slightly, and he goes along, angling to the right. Careful and slow, she drags the tip of her tongue across his lip, earning a soft, low sound from deep within his throat. It tastes of salt, of testing waters. It tastes of the calm before a storm.

And when they break, it is then that reality dawns on her. They're both reaching for air, foreheads pressed together, neither looking at the other. It is then that she realizes, she has no clue what to do next. She feels lost, nervous, and, all of a sudden, painfully self-conscious. She's never really done this before. Not like this.

She wonders what he feels. Wonders it with an ache, a sting, a jab at her confidence, which keeps plummeting deeper and darker, all the while she's losing her battle with doubts. She knew one thing, though.

How right this felt.

Soon, when she brings back a speckle of courage and looks at the man before her, she finds out another. She's staring into an abyss, a deep chasm of hunger. She knows then, he is waiting. Waiting for her to make a choice.

She notices she's been clutching his shirt at the front, and she relaxes her fist, moving her hand up his chest, to his neck. She can feel his warmth radiating from beneath the soft material, can feel the muscles tense and relax under her touch. The girl pulls him closer, and he follows without a heartbeat.

When their lips touch again, she feels it, the storm, dancing on the horizon. She feels his arm snaking around her waist, feels his hard chest against her own, feels the hunger and desperation in his fiery kiss, she feels _him_, and him alone, slowly engulfing her every sense. She answers him in turn what feels like sloppy at best, but he doesn't seem to mind; he doesn't seem to mind setting the pace, taking control, showing her the way around.

His hands trace her curves in what feels like a prayer when she feels the wall press against her back, suddenly realizing that they were moving all throughout. Casey gasps for air, dizzy from the ever-crashing waves of him, his name escaping her in a gentle exhale.

Before she registers what's happening, she feels Dennis hoist her up, pressing her even further. Casey wraps her legs around him, and feels his hand brush down along her thigh, sending a shiver down her spine and making her burn inside. The man kisses her neck, and she lets herself melt into the feeling.

She feels him hard against her, his arousal obvious, almost over her own heat. This leaves a trickle of worry in her mind, a bitter taste in her mouth and a reminder of hands on her that should not have been there, but she's too dazed to care now, instead focusing on the man pressed against her.

"Dennis," she starts, unable to even guess what she wants to say, and he swallows it, and the third kiss feels so, oh so _different_. It's greedy, and eager, and possessive, and it feels so much like _Dennis_. His lips hard against hers, his tongue hungrily exploring every inch of her, his touch leaving burning trails on her body. She moans when he presses himself closer against the apex of her thighs, and for a moment she feels that this may be a bit too much for her. She's never kissed anyone like that, she's never felt so on-fire before, she never even thought that much was possible.

Yet here she is.

And it's making her head spin.

And she's not sure if she's ready for where this is going.

"Casey," his low, dark voice snaps her back into reality, and the way her name rolls off his tongue makes her hands tremble. "Tell me to stop."

The girl blinks, slowly taking in what he's asking. The light trickle of worry forms into rain, and she frowns. He's still holding her up, still intoxicating her with his closeness, warmth, and scent, but he's not looking at her. His eyes are hiding in the cast shadow.

"Please, just," He seems unable to finish his thought, too caught up on something, something dark in his mind.

"Dennis. Dennis, look at me." He doesn't, not until she puts her palm on his cheek. When she sees him, really sees him, her chest hurts for how vulnerable he looks.

Perhaps it was going too fast for him, too.

She kisses his forehead, aching to do anything to soothe the trouble from his eyes. Hears him sigh at the touch.

"It's alright. It's enough now." The, she hopes, reassuring touch on his cheek doesn't leave him when the man gently lets her down. He doesn't push it away, either.

"I'll be going now." He tells her, almost cautiously. When she nods, he steps back, and she notices the same caution in his body movements.

Dennis stops at the doorway, glancing at her. His eyes feel almost warm. And then he's gone.


End file.
